I’m about to tackle Vance for even considering that when Palmer throws her arm around me. “Hey. I’ve missed you.”
She’s been home in Texas for the past few weeks. She only just got back into town today.
I return her embrace. “I missed you too.” I take in her appearance. She’s wearing something we bought during our shopping spree. A purple, figure-hugging dress. This is the first time I’ve seen her in any of the clothes we bought that day. “You look great.”
She smiles shyly. “You don’t think it’s too much?”
I shake my head. “No way. I’m telling you, purple is your color. Your eyes look vibrant.”
As I look more closely, I realize she also attempted a bit more makeup than is normal for her. She didn’t do a great job, but I can fix this.
I grab her hand. “Come to the bathroom with me.”
Ten minutes later, we emerge with my latest masterpiece on my arm. Beau’s face when he sees my work is priceless. I know she’s been crushing on him, but now I’m starting to wonder if he returns the sentiment. I’m not sure Palmer can handle a beast of a man like Beau Fudd, but crazier things have happened.
We sit around eating the sushi platters and other food Shay and Alyssa provided while toasting with full glasses of champagne. It’s fun having a group of friends like this.
We chat a bit about the Camels’ season. The guys are excited about it. We’re all planning to go to their first playoff game in two weeks.
We also talk a bit about our upcoming trip to Vegas in March for the NCAA basketball tournament. It’s a huge sports and party weekend in Vegas. Apparently, the Camels and the WAGs go every year and have a blast.
Layla invited our group to join in on the fun, and I can’t wait. It’s something I’ve always wanted to do, but it’s expensive and I’ve never been able to do so.
Layla has planned everything from the swanky suites to the private jet taking us all out there. All I have to do is show up in my fabulous clothing. That’s something I can handle.
Daylen’s obnoxious meter is off the charts tonight. The more he drinks, the more unbearable and cruder he gets. Every little thing he says bothers me. I dislike most people, but none as much as him.
DAYLEN
“Lesbian first dates are a minimum of six hours. I’ve had several as long as twelve.”
I look at Alyssa in disbelief in our booth at the karaoke bar as we get ready to celebrate the New Year. “What in the world could you possibly have to talk about for that long?”
“Don’t mind him,” Kennedy interrupts. “He doesn’t have enough words in his vocabulary to talk to anyone for six minutes, let alone six hours.”
Why? Why do I spend time with this woman? There is nothing redeeming about her except her tits, which happen to look spectacular this evening. She’s in some sort of plunging, gold, sparkly shirt that looks like it was wrapped around her from behind. It’s barely holding those boulders. If I pull the strings in the front, her tits will pop out. I’ve contemplated doing so multiple times since she took off that over-the-top fur coat. This woman thinks she’s royalty.
Why, God? Why would you put the best tits in the world on the worst woman? It’s the greatest travesty I’ve ever heard of…besides war, violence, famine, and homelessness.
Speaking of Kennedy, she’s knocking them back tonight in a way I’ve never seen from her. She’s getting sloppy, and it’s not even midnight yet. She’s been talking to some preppy douchebag all night. At least she’s not fawning all over Champ anymore. Maybe she finally figured out he’s not into women. Watching her fail at trying to win him over all those months was extremely satisfying.
For some unknown reason, she’s been particularly salty to me tonight. Maybe it’s the booze. It figures she’d be a nasty drunk. She’s mean when sober, why not drunk too?
“Next up,” the MC announces, “we have Richard Dickgrabber.” He looks around. “Richard, are you still here?”
Vance elbows me. “I can’t believe you still use that name.”
Richard Dickgrabber is the real name of one of my father’schildhood friends. And he goes by Dick. Dick Dickgrabber. What were his parents thinking?
I’ve been using it as my fake name on everything my whole life, from restaurant reservations to hotel reservations, and even my fake ID before I was of age.
I chuckle. “Time for good old Dick to sing. I bet you know what song I chose.”
He shakes his head at me in exasperation. “God help us all.”
I stand and walk to the stage, grabbing the microphone. Speaking into it, I wink at Vance and say, “This one is for the sexiest quarterback in the world.”
I begin to sing “Waterfalls” by TLC, the greatest song in existence. Vance knows I play it on repeat in my car. I’ve been working with BJ on the lyrics. I think she’s starting to get the melody.
